


Olympic Caliber

by Claire3467



Series: Figure Skating AU [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety Attacks, Autistic Jack, Gen, M/M, also bitty has ptsd, figure skating, look nobody else had written this very specific au that i wanted so i had to do it okay, mentions of bullying, which is apparently a common tag so how cool is that?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:25:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8373844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire3467/pseuds/Claire3467
Summary: In which Eric Bittle never stopped figure skating but somehow still manages to become SMH's favorite frog.
Alternately, the one in which Jack just wants this kid to stop messing up the ice before practice, and definitely is not having feelings about his eyes or the size of his thighs or his accent. Because he doesn't have time for that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea popped into my head and after two hours of researching various figure skating minutiae I decided I should actually write something.  
> Just as a quick note, I am making one major change here (besides the rest of the AU, I mean). Everyone is born one year earlier (which means his freshman year is also taking place one year earlier, along with all other events from the comic). Because I needed Bitty to be fifteen by July 2009. For reasons that I will explain later.

Faber was beautiful, Eric had to admit. The first few rays of sunlight filtered through the massive windows on the side of the rink, hitting the fresh ice that he always felt a little guilty about ruining. Technically, he didn’t have to be here. The North Star Skating Club had told him that he didn’t need to worry about morning practices until he had gotten settled in, but he had already missed three practices because of move in, and he was nearly out of his mind from the extra energy.

He finished lacing up his skate, stretching his arms over his head as he walked to the rink entrance. It was going to be a pain, switching between two rinks everyday, but the commute to the North Star rink in the morning just wasn’t possible. As it was, it would be enough trouble catching the bus after his last class to get there in time, but he’d make it work. 

He had to.

Eric shook his head slightly to get  _ those _ thoughts out of his head; Lord knew that was not the mindset he needed right now. He slipped his red and black skate guards off the moment he hit the ice, setting them on the side like he had done a million times- or not, apparently. He stared at the guards on the ice. Right. Hockey rink. He settled for setting them to the side of the entrance, hoping no one would take them or step on them while he was busy. 

He pulled up his workout playlist on his phone, one that he had made specifically so he could keep track of the time and be out of the rink before anyone else arrived. He tucked his earbuds in, hit play, and finally,  _ finally _ pushed off.

And just like that, everything else fell away. Just like it always did, his worries disappeared, his fears, his insecurities. He was more than good at this, he was  _ amazing _ , and he had the medals to prove it. It didn’t matter that he was short: when he jumped, his head was above everyone else’s. It didn’t matter that he barely weighed a hundred and twenty pounds when he was spinning so fast he blurred. If anyone was hurling slurs at him he couldn’t hear them over the sound of his blades cutting through the ice. 

This was easier than breathing, easier than baking a perfect peach pie, easier than living the perfectly rehearsed lie of his life in Georgia. Just gather enough speed, push off on the edge, and  _ fly _ . Whip the leg around,  _ keep your free leg tight _ , keep your momentum. Keep your knee relaxed, nail the landing, repeat. Don’t think, just  _ be _ .

The music paused for a long moment, and he got into position just as the last song of the playlist started: the music for his short program this season. He had been working on the choreography and was planning to clean it up once he got to a real practice, but there was no reason not to run through it right now. He swept into the motions as the [violin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHjpOzsQ9YI) slowly picked up, and by the time he slammed his toe pick down as his arms flew up with the end of the music he was gasping for breath.

The exhaustion was probably the reason why, when the shouts and whoops started, he was so startled that he yelped and collapsed to the ice, staring in horror at the many huge boys standing on the other side of the glass. 

_/ \\_

Jack really didn’t mind morning practices. He would be up anyway for a run, and frankly he’d rather be on the ice instead. He always loved the way the rink looked first thing in the morning, ice fresh and smooth. The rink was relatively quiet before practice, most of the guys too tired to cause too much of a ruckus. That was why, as they walked out to the ice, Jack could clearly hear the sound of skates cutting across the rink. 

“Hey, do you guys hear that?” Holster asked through a yawn.

“Yeah, what the-” Shitty stopped so suddenly that Jack almost walked into him. He glanced over his friend’s shoulder towards the rink. The  _ occupied _ rink. The boy was posed gracefully at center ice, eyes closed. Jack turned around, searching for the coaches. They were supposed to start practice in ten minutes, and this kid was ruining their ice-

“ _ Whoa _ ,” Ransom breathed. Jack turned back around to find that the blonde was now gliding smoothly across the ice, skates twisting in complicated patterns both completely in sync with the movements of his hips and arms and so utterly opposite that Jack couldn’t figure out how he hadn’t fallen. He was already mesmerized, and then he jumped.

Shitty shrieked next to him, grabbing his arm as the boy landed and immediately flew up again, landing and gliding away without so much as the slightest wobble. Rans and Holster swore as he swept into a spin that somehow got faster as he went, folding nearly in half and bending his free leg until his skate was touching his head and Jack wondered why there was so little oxygen in the rink suddenly.

“Holy shit, he doesn’t have bones.” He wasn’t even sure who was talking at this point. By now, the whole team, coaches included, was watching the little skater. 

Jack forcibly tore his gaze away from the ice. “Coach Hall-”

Hall sighed as Murray frowned at what looked like the rink schedule. “He’s part of a nearby skating club. They arranged for him to have the rink for two hours before us. We’re technically early. It’s still his ice time.”

Jack hadn’t ever really thought about figure skating as something that needed a person to get up before the sun rose, but watching the boy fly up again, even higher than before, he had to admit it clearly paid off. Even he could tell the kid was good, and all he knew about figure skating was that there was lots of spinning and sequins. 

The guys around him were still making various noises of delight as the boy spun frantically again, thankfully with both legs down this time. 

“He’s messing up our ice,” Jack managed to bite out.

“Apparently clean ice is more important for him than us,” Hall responded. “As we were repeatedly told over the past two weeks.”

“He can have as much ice as he wants if he teaches me to do that!” Ransom half shouted as the boy jumped again. Holster nodded frantically. 

“Bro,” Shitty said. “Holy. Fucking.  _ Shit _ .”

The kid slammed his skate down and threw his arms up, head tilted back and breathing so hard Jack could see his chest rise from here. Now that he was staying still, he could see the dangling cord of his earbuds against the stark black of his shirt. That explained why he hadn’t reacted to the fact that over half of SMH was screaming by the time he finished his routine. 

They clearly weren’t playing anymore though, as his head snapped back down to the sound of frantic screaming and whooping even louder than before. He yelped and flinched so hard his skate slid out from under him and he landed hard on the ice, staring at them with wide eyes.

Several of the boys went to help him up, but he had already scrambled up and was hesitantly moving across to them, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

“Sorry, y’all,” he said, running a hand through his hair. Jack nearly did a double take at his accent. Not to mention the fact that, now that he was closer, Jack could see how small the kid really was. And how nice his thighs were. Not that he was looking. 

“Is it six already? Gracious, I am  _ so _ sorry, I musta lost track of the time. It won’t happen again I promise-” He was talking faster and faster as he went on, bending down to grab a pair of skate guards Jack hadn’t even noticed and slide them on with hands that were shaking so badly Jack was worried he’d hurt himself. His eyes darted among the players, shoulders finally slumping slightly as he saw the coaches. 

Well, they did until Ransom slapped him on the back and he jolted forward, eyes widening even more. 

“Bro!” Ransom exclaimed. “That was fucking amazing!”

“Oh, er, thank you?”

“Can you show us how to do that?” Ransom continued, apparently not noticing that the kid was now inching slowly towards the door to the showers. “Oh, hey what’s your name, man?”

“Oh, Eric. Bittle. Um, I really do need to get cleaned up, but it was nice to meet y’all.” He bolted for the door, moving faster than Jack had ever seen anyone move in skates off-ice.

The team stared after him in silence for a moment. “Bitty.”

Jack turned to glare at Shitty. “What.”

“He said his last name was Bittle. He’s tiny. Bitty.”

“ _ Why _ are you giving him a nickname?”

“He’ll be showing up a lot,” Johnson said. Everyone turned to stare at him as he slipped his helmet on. “What?” he asked, shrugging. “The plot demands it.”

Coach Hall sighed. “Let’s just get started.”

Everyone trudged out onto the ice. Jack turned back for just a moment to stare in the direction Bittle had gone (he was  _ not  _ calling him by a hockey nickname). He shook his head and glided out onto the ice. He’d said it wouldn’t happen again, so Jack wouldn’t have to see him again. He could just get annoyed at the torn up ice without having to actually look at his stupid big eyes. 

Or his thighs.

Or the way his hair flopped over onto his forehead.

Crisse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys realize they done fucked up, and Johnson is internally screaming because somehow the UST is even stronger than in canon and he did not sign up for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap! I am blown away by the response this has gotten. Y'all are amazing, seriously!  
> On that note, I have been trying to respond to all the comments, but that will probably be changing, simply because of the MASSIVE volume (rest assured, every one still makes me squeal when I get that e-mail.)  
> Also, updates probably won't be this frequent, but I really, really, REALLY didn't feel like doing my homework the other day and cranked out 90% of this update. On with the show!

True to his word, Bittle hadn’t lingered so close to the hockey team’s practice again. Jack appreciated this. He had enough to worry about without adding small blonde skaters into the mix. He’d learned his lesson on that one a long time ago.

Unfortunately, the rest of the team didn’t agree with that.

“Man, it’s been like, a week,” Ransom grumbled. “And I still can’t manage to do that jump thing.” He had tried for several practices to land one, and somewhere around the twelfth try, Coach Hall had banned any jumping in practice. Mostly because Holster was laughing so hard that he kept falling as well.

“Do you think we scared him away?” Wicks asked. “He looked a little freaked.”

“What?” Holster demanded. “We’re fucking great.” Several other guys nodded.

Shitty looked a little unsure. Jack was refusing to contribute to any conversations involving Bittle.

“He did run away pretty fast,” Shitty admitted. “Shit. We should apologize. Like, ASAP.”

“Just Ransom, Holster, Shitty and Jack,” Johnson said. Everyone stared. “It’ll be the start of your bonding time.” Everyone continued to stare. He sighed. “Jack’s the captain, Ransom and Holster were the ones who freaked him out, Shitty is good at mediating and seems welcoming. Happy?” He got up and walked out to the rink.

“It’s too early for his shit,” Holster grumbled. 

Jack agreed. Then it registered that this plan meant that he’d have to see Bittle again. Presumably in his leggings. Possibly without the protection of his hockey pants. He dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “Merde.”

Ninety minutes later, Ransom had paused from stuffing eggs in his mouth to pull out his laptop and plan their apology. “Okay, so Coach said he’s there for two hours before us, right?”

“Bro, I’m not getting up at 3:30,” Holster said.

“You don’t have to, Holtzy. I figure the dude’s been leaving around 5:30 at the earliest, so we just show up a little earlier.”

“Leave our hockey gear off,” Shitty added. “Guy’s already half our size, we don’t need to fucking remind him. And no fucking touching him.”

“Jack? Anything to add?”

_ Please let him be wearing actual pants. _ “Shitty’s smallest. Let him go first. We’ll hang back.”

Bittle was, in fact, wearing track pants the next morning. Not that they helped much, since as they walked in he was doing some sort of spin that involved his legs being at 180 degrees. Which meant one of them was pointed straight up. 

Jack furiously ran through every hockey play he could remember while sternly reminding himself of all the reasons he had decided not to date boys until he had several Stanley Cups, at least. Of course, then Bittle stopped with a small, blissful smile on his face, and Jack wondered if Shitty would give him a lesson on how to politely ask someone to stay far away from him. Because he was not straight enough to be around this boy for any amount of time.

Shitty, one of exactly two people on the planet who knew about Jack’s preferences, glanced over and raised an eyebrow at him. Fuck. Was he being that obvious? Okay, definitely couldn’t be around Bittle. Ever.

So of course, Bittle chose that moment to notice them, locking up like he had last time, eyes wide with what Jack realized was probably panic. “C-can I help y’all?” He hadn’t moved any closer to the rink door. 

Shitty stepped forward. “We wanted to apologize.”

Bittle stared at him. “You… what?”

Ransom took a step forward, still behind Shitty, reciting the little speech they’d all worked out (with a little help from Lardo, after they’d told her over Skype and she’d informed them they were all idiots). “We were pretty loud. And touchy. We weren’t thinking, ‘cause that’s just how we always are with each other, but you don’t know us and… we didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“You don’t have to cut your workout short,” Jack said, surprising everyone. Bittle’s eyes snapped towards him. “You’re supposed to have the rink until six, right?” He nodded. “So stay until six. It’s not like it takes you long to get off. The ice.”  _ Why do people let me talk? _

Bittle finally moved over to the rink door, sliding on his skate guards and walking over to them. “Thank you.”

“So,” Shitty said, clapping his hands together lightly. “Since we got off on the wrong foot, let me introduce everyone. I’m Shitty Knight, forward.”

Bittle had his hand extended to shake, but pulled it back slightly. “Pardon?” His eyes were wide again. 

“Hockey nicknames, bro!” Ransom said cheerfully. “I’m Ransom, this is Holster, defense, and we still really want you to show us how to do one of those jumps, Bitty.”

“Er, Bitty?”

“Hockey nicknames!” Ransom and Holster chorused. Holster jabbed a thumb in Jack’s direction. “Jack doesn’t get one ‘cause he’s lame.”

“Oh. Um, I don’t know how well the jumps would go in hockey skates….”

They apparently noticed the toe picks for the first time, judging by Holster’s cry of “Dude, those are wicked!” Jack was pointedly keeping his eyes focused on a point over Bittle’s shoulder. He did, however, notice when he cracked a very small smile. 

“Well, it was nice to officially meet y’all, but I really do need to get cleaned up and grab a bite to eat before orientation. I guess I’ll see y’all tomorrow, though?” He slipped out, much slower than the previous time, with a lingering glance at Jack that he absolutely refused to acknowledge. 

Shitty leaned in close. “You wanna talk about it?”

Jack glared at him. “There’s nothing to talk about.” There couldn’t be.

_/\\_

Eric was lost. Well and truly lost. All the buildings looked alike and everyone already knew where to go and he was so  _ tired _ . 

He settled heavily onto a bench, clutching his map so hard it was liable to rip, not that it mattered; the dang thing hadn’t been any help. He rested his head in his hand, forcing his breathing back under control. He was eighteen years old, an Olympian, and a World Champion, he would  _ not _ cry.  _ Especially  _ not in  _ public _ . 

“Need some help, Bitty?” He jerked his head up (and up, Lord, why was everyone up here so tall?) to see the two bigger hockey players. And Jack. Who apparently hated him.

“Oh, thank you…” He looked hopelessly at the blonde one. 

“Holster. Or you can call me Adam. Whatever works, Bits.”

“And I’m Ransom, also known as Justin,” the other one added, plucking Eric’s map from his hand. “Got your schedule with you?”

“Oh! Yes! Here,” he babbled, pulling it out of his bag. Jack still hadn’t acknowledged him. Not that he cared. All the boys were gorgeous up here, he didn’t need a broody jock. Even one with such a  _ fantastic _ ass. Not that he was looking.

“Alright,” Ransom (Hockey nicknames, good Lord) said, holding the map high enough that Eric had to stand on his tiptoes to get even a glimpse of it. He had a marker and was circling seemingly random buildings. “So your English class is here, and math is here…”

Holster snatched the map away and Eric wondered if he should just bounce up and down to see it. While half jogging to keep up with these giants. “Ransy, he’s gotta know where the dining hall and library are. Hey, Bitty, where’s your dorm?”

“South?”

“Cool so here, you need to just….”

_/\\_

Jack was going to lose his fucking mind. It was bad enough that they had to run into Bittle (he refused to call him anything that might even suggest friendliness, that boy needed to stay away from him) while he was looking so small and pathetic and in need of a hug. No, Rans and Holster had to go help him. And hold the map over his head. So he had to stretch up. In shorts that left remarkably little to the imagination considering they were fucking denim. 

He really didn’t have time to wonder at how little Bittle’s ass was right now. So when the d-men cheerily handed a still confused Bittle his schedule and now completely useless map and headed off to their classes, Jack grabbed the schedule, scanned it, and tried not to scream. 

“Your English class is in the building next to mine. I’ll show you.” He took off fast enough that Bittle was half running to keep up, but he was not spending a minute more with him than he had to. 

“Oh! Thank you! Say, do you know where-” 

Jack sped up. 

Bittle didn’t try to talk again. When they got to the buildings, Jack pointed and bolted. He shoved down the guilt as he settled into his seat. 

Bits probably deserved better anyway. 

_ Shit. _

_/\\_

Eric was not crying. He absolutely, positively, could  _ not _ be sobbing right now. His mother was about to call, and she was already worried enough about him being 1,200 miles away. She didn’t need to hear that he had almost been late to his afternoon practice because Jack had run away before he could ask where the bus stop was. Didn’t need to hear that he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he’d done to offend Jack other than be a short, blond, male figure skater. 

That’s all it usually took anyway. He didn’t know why he thought Samwell would be any different.

He shook his head and wiped his eyes. God, he was being silly. Upset over one boy with lovely eyes who didn’t want to be his friend. The rest of the hockey team seemed perfectly friendly. Goodness, Holster and Ransom had practically adopted him, running into him as he went to lunch and pointing out all the foods to avoid in the dining hall and even inviting him to sit with them. 

His new rink-mates seemed wonderful, and his coaches had been very understanding about his schedule. He’d be fine. He’d pushed through worse before.

His phone rang.

“Mother, you would not  _ believe _ what happened today….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figure skates and hockey skates are massively different, for anyone who didn't know. Which apparently includes Ransom and Holster. Also, I know that canonically Shitty clearly doesn't know that Jack likes guys, but here I've decided that Jack probably accidentally blurted it out sometime in their freshman or sophomore years (maybe to explain his reaction to another small blonde skater, hint hint).  
> Also look, I know Bitty never mentioned anything about finding Jack hot in canon, but you can't tell me there wasn't a basic appreciation of his... assets.   
> Comments and kudos literally make me squeal and grin like an idiot!   
> I'm claire3467 on tumblr, feel free to come talk or correct me about whatever grievous errors I have made regarding sports that I have never even come close to participating in!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bitty panics and Jack questions why he is friends with Shitty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some more nervous Bitty and this-boy-is-going-to-kill-me Jack!  
> This hasn't been beta-read, let me know if you see any errors!
> 
> Also, would anyone be interested in reading a little drabble/vignette of Jack coming out to Shitty? Let me know, cause I have a few ideas bouncing around!

If anyone asked later, Eric would blame it on homesickness. Homesickness from being 1,200 miles from home and not having gotten a hug for three weeks. Homesickness for his old rink and Katya and his momma and pie. Which was why he found himself out at eight thirty on a school night buying baking ingredients from the Stop-and-Shop and praying that the student kitchens had basic baking equipment in them.

“Heeeeeey Bitty!”

He spun around, holding his hand against his heart in shock at the completely unnecessary shout, given that Shitty (Why on earth didn’t he have a first name?) was standing only a few feet from him. 

He at least had the decency to look sorry. “My bad, man. Want a hand? Where’re you headed?”

“Oh! No, I’ve got it. I was just heading back to the student kitchens to whip something up.”

Shitty grinned. “We’ve got a kitchen back at the Haus. You can come use it if you’d like some company.”

Bitty stared at him. “What house?”

Shitty’s grin widened. “Bitty, prepare for your life to fucking change forever.”

He had to admit, it was a kitchen. There was, in fact, an oven, stove, refrigerator, and even a microwave. It also had cabinets and a sink. 

It also didn’t appear to have been used for cooking in several years, judging by the layer of solo cups on nearly every available surface.

“Oh dear.”

Shitty snapped his fingers. “I’ll go grab the boys to fix this.” He ran up the stairs, shouting as he went. “Yo! Rans! Holster! Come clean your fucking mess!”

Eric hesitantly set his bags down on the table, sliding some of the cups out of the way to do so. Good lord.

“C’mon Shits, it’s not that- Bitty! Sup dude?” Ransom rounded the corner into the kitchen, Holster right behind him. 

For the first time all day, Eric’s smile didn’t feel forced. “Just needed to clear my head. Shitty said I could use y’all’s kitchen?”

“You cook?” Holster asked in surprise, stacking cups as Eric began unloading his supplies and checking the cabinets for equipment. 

“Bake, mostly,” he said absently. Lord, why did anyone need that much Sriracha? Ah, they had a spoon and a mixing bowl. Now if he could only find a pie plate…

“ _ Merde _ .”

Bitty frowned and straightened up from where he had been bending down to check one of the lower cabinets. He caught a brief glimpse of what he assumed was Jack’s retreating back, not that he had been staring long enough to recognize it. Rolling his eyes, he continued checking cabinets until he managed to find something that may resemble a pie plate once he gave it a thorough cleaning. This may actually work.

Especially if he could find an excuse to ban grumpy Canadians with pretty accents and prettier eyes while he was baking.

_/\\_

Jack just wanted some water. He’d ignored Shitty shouting for Ransom and Holster, ignored them charging down from the attic, and finally decided he could take a brief break from studying. 

_ This is why I don’t take breaks _ , he thought firmly as he immediately walked out of the kitchen and away from Bittle, who for whatever reason was bent over in their kitchen. And of  _ course _ he couldn’t bend over like a normal human being. Of  _ course _ he would just fold himself in half to look at the lower cabinets. He really hoped he hadn’t sworn out loud, but from the look Shitty gave him as he followed him into the hallway, he figured he probably had.

“Shitty,” he growled.

“Jack,” his best friend responded cheerfully. “Did you know Bitty bakes? He said he makes a mean apple pie. Which he’s making in the kitchen right now. I’m sure he’d appreciate some company.”

Jack glared at him. “Why. Is. He.  _ Here? _ ”

Shitty’s expression hardened. “Because the kid looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown and I thought it would be better if he did it here than by himself. And you need to get laid.”

Jack tried to remember how words worked. “ _ You don’t even know if he likes guys. _ ” 

“You’re right!” He snapped his fingers and turned back towards the kitchen. “Let’s ask him. Hey, itty Bitty!”

“Shits!” Jack hissed desperately, chasing after him.

Bittle turned from where he was pressing a crust into a pie tin that Jack hadn’t even known they  _ had _ , apples sitting in a bowl nearby. Weren’t pies supposed to take longer than that? Bittle raised an eyebrow at Shitty. “Yes?”

“Got a girlfriend?”

“Oh, no, I-”

“Boyfriend? Significant other?”

Bittle jerked so hard he almost knocked the pie tin off the counter. “Oh, gracious!” He let out a clearly forced laugh, shoulders tensing up as he glanced at the other boys. “I don’t have time to date, what with six hours of practice and now college on top of that.” He went back to his pie, still tenser than he had been the first time they met.

_/\\_

Lord, what had he been thinking? He wasn’t even sure he knew how to get back to his dorm from here and with Jack and his glare back the kitchen door was blocked. 

Why had he thought Samwell would be any different?

“Hey Rans, you want a beer?” Holster asked, passing behind him to get to the fridge.

“Duh.”

“Bitty? Beer?” Eric turned to see Holster offering him a can from the fridge.

“No, thank you.” He forced himself to keep his voice level, suddenly grateful for all the press conferences he’d been subjected to the past several years. Assuming he made it out of this house, he didn’t need Coach Kelly to kill him for drinking. 

Holster shrugged, walking back over to Ransom. 

“Thanks, babe,” Ransom said, kissing his cheek. Eric stared.

Ransom noticed. “Oh, yeah! We’re dating. Did we mention that?”

Eric was pretty sure he squeaked. 

Holster’s face hardened. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No!” He exclaimed, still squeakier than he would have liked. He waved his hands frantically. “Of course not! I’m at Samwell, why would I have a problem with boys kissing? I just haven’t met anyone else who likes boys, that’s all!” He went back to assembling his pie with shaking hands.

_/\\_

Fuck his life. 

Holster’s brow furrowed for a moment, but Shitty hastily shook his head and waved his arms. He shouldn’t have bothered. Even Jack could tell that Bittle hadn’t meant for that to slip out.

He could relate.

Which brought him back around to wanting the ground to swallow him whole. Because really, how was he supposed to function with this small, adorable boy looking like he was about to shake apart six feet from him? Hugging had never been Jack’s thing, but he really, really, wanted to go give Eric one right now.

But he was already pulling himself back together, straightening back up, even if his shoulders remained tense.

“Hang on,” Ransom said suddenly. “Back up. Did you say six  _ hours _ of practice?” 

Bitty turned to look at him oddly. “Yes?” He turned back to put the now-assembled pie in the oven. 

“Six. Hours. A day?”

“I try to get in more on weekends to make up for it, but yes.” He turned back to find all four of them staring blankly. “What?”

“Well damn,” Shitty said, clapping Jack hard on the back. “We finally found someone who works harder than you, Jack! You two can bond over being fucking overachievers who make everyone else look like lazy motherfuckers!” 

“That’s about average for my level, actually.” He glanced at the clock and sighed. “I really should be doing homework right now.”

“Nope!” Shitty announced cheerfully. “We’re all taking a goddamn mental health break. You too, Jack. You any good at Mario Kart, Bitty?”

“I’ve played a little,” he said, hesitantly following them out of the kitchen. “Is that couch.... safe?”

“Of fucking course! I mean, you could always sit on J-” Jack grabbed him in a headlock before he could finish his sentence. 

“The armchair,” Jack said gruffly. “There’s an armchair.”

He was not going to survive this semester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the end of Shitty's sentence was 'Jack's lap'.  
> No, the boys will not be bringing the slip up until Bitty does. Holster, Ransom, and Jack have all been there, and Shitty's not a dick.  
> No, the boys still do not know how good Bitty is. 
> 
> Johnson: Wow, how's that slow burn going?  
> Shut up. This was meant to mostly follow the canon timeline, but we are quickly hurtling towards these boys being together by the end of the year, even though I'm really going to try and drag it out until right before Epikegster before they get their shit together.
> 
> Edit for clarification: Bitty is lying out his ass about six hours being average. He too works harder than God and takes out his stress by spinning and jumping until he can't feel his legs. Because he has terrible coping mechanisms besides just repression in this fic.
> 
> Comments and kudos make me squeal! I'm claire3467 on tumblr, come say hi!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys learn just how good Bitty is, and Bitty's friends plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry it's been a while! School's been awful (-50/10 do not recommend majoring in bioengineering, save yourself) and I've been exhausted. But here we go, with lots of teasing and my OC's that I made up like two months ago but only really named about 5 days ago!  
> Oh, and FYI Carolina's name is pronounced with the Latin emphasis (ie, not like the state).  
> Also, this chapter explains the reason everything is set a year earlier/everyone is born a year earlier.

A week later, Eric found himself walking into the dining hall for breakfast a few hours later than normal. He’d landed on his ankle a little roughly in practice yesterday, and Coach Kelly had insisted he take the morning off. He had taken advantage of the chance to catch up on his sleep, and as a result found himself walking in at the same time as the hockey team.

“Bitty!” Shitty crowed. “You gonna eat with us, man?”

“Um, sure?”

Naturally, the only seat that was available by the time he sat down with his yogurt and fruit was across from Jack, who didn’t even bother looking up. Fine by him.

He mostly sat quietly and listened, only responding when one of the other boys asked if he had made the pie from last week, and if he’d be willing to do it again.

“As long as y'all don’t mind having me hanging around your house, I’d be happy to. Lord knows I can’t eat any of what I bake.”

“Hey Jack, I think you have some admirers,” one of the other boys (there were so many of them, Eric really couldn’t keep track) said. “They’ve been staring for like, five minutes, and now- yeah, here they come.”

“Excuse me?” Eric turned around to face the voice right behind him. Two girls were standing behind him, both clutching notepads. “We are  _ so _ sorry to bother you, but…. You’re Eric Bittle, right?”

Eric ignored the variations of ‘What?’ and ‘Why?’ from the boys around him. “Sure am!”

The girls beamed. “Could we have your autograph?”

“Of course! Would you like a picture, too?” He got up and signed their books, smiling for their cameras and continuing to ignore the hockey team’s confusion. 

“Are you skating in the competition in Boston next weekend?”

“Wouldn’t miss it! It’ll be my first competition with my new club; I can’t wait! Are y'all planning on going?”

He chatted with them for a few more minutes while the team got more and more antsy behind him. By the time they left, Shitty was about to bound out of his seat.

“Bitty you little fucker! Why the fuck didn’t you tell us you’re a fucking Olympian?!” He waved his phone in Eric’s face as he sat back down. Eric was pretty sure he had it pulled up to his Wikipedia page, but he couldn’t be positive with how he kept moving it around.

“It’s not really something that comes up in conversation very much, and y’all never asked.” He shrugged, hoping he wasn’t blushing as much as it felt like he was.

“And I haven’t heard of most of these other things you’ve won, but they sound important, so holy shit, dude. Like, holy shit.”

“Well, I didn’t actually win in Vancouver-” Eric started.

“Bro, your page is longer than Jack’s,” Ransom butted in. He was holding both his and Holster’s phones and was slowly scrolling on both. “Yeah, definitely longer.”

Eric turned to Jack in confusion. “You have a Wikipedia page too?”

_/\\_

Jack glared at him. “Yes.”

“Oh.” He continued staring at him. “Did you play before college or something…?”

Shitty slung an arm around Bittle’s shoulders. “So the longer I look at your page, the more I feel like the fastest way to explain this is that he’s basically the you of hockey. If, like, one of your parents also kicked ass at figure skating.”

Bittle’s face cleared. “Oh! I’ll have to come to one of y’all’s games then! I mean, I don’t know much about hockey, but I could look something up?”

He looked so genuinely earnest that Jack wanted to throw up. Why couldn’t he be more annoying? Jack was  _ trying  _ to not like him, but he was making it very difficult. It would be much easier to hate him if he didn’t care about hockey. But now he wanted to look things up and come to a game and was smiling at Jack so unsurely that he felt like the worst kind of person for glaring at him but he. Could. Not. Do. This. 

Bittle’s smile slipped and he looked down at his bowl. Jack firmly told himself that that was a good thing, and that he absolutely did not want to give him a hug and apologize and ask him out for coffee to make up for being such a jerk.

“So Bitty,” Ransom said. “This competition next weekend. Where in Boston is it, and do we need tickets? Because we’re coming.”

Jack glared down at his eggs so he didn’t have to keep watching the blush spread across Bittle’s face. 

“Oh, gracious,” Bittle said. “It’s gonna be the whole weekend, y’all don’t wanna waste that much time, I’m sure.”

Shitty shook his head and tried to catch Jack’s eye. Jack pretended he didn’t notice. “No can do, brah. We want to see our favorite frog kick ass, and I’m not flying to fucking China to do it, so deal.”

Jack just barely saw Bittle’s very small smile. “Well, I’ll ask my coach today if y’all need tickets. You really don’t have to, though.” He glanced at his phone, eyes going wide. “Oh, I’m late! Sorry y’all, I’ll let you know tomorrow about the competition!” He grabbed his bag and dashed out of the dining hall. 

“Aw, look!” Holster cooed. “I found itty bitty baby Bitty skating! Jack, look at him!”

Jack glared as Holster shoved the phone in his face. He caught a flash of sequins and honey blonde hair before he shoved back from the table and grabbed his bag. “I have reading to do.”

He ignored Shitty’s glare as he walked out.

_/\\_

Eric had to admit, cardio became far more enjoyable when it was done with the practice mates that he was quickly becoming friends with. Well, Matthew still hated him, but as Antonio had stage-whispered to him on his second day, he was ‘a massive raging homophobe and first-class dick’. Eric had plenty of experience dealing with those.

He hadn’t expected  _ everyone  _ up here to be better, after all.

Antonio and his twin Carolina (‘Call me Nina.’) had latched onto Eric within his first ten minutes, claiming that they had been elected his welcome ambassadors and introducing him to the rest of the club with increasingly ridiculous descriptions (‘And Thomas here just landed a quintuple axle in practice yesterday, he’s modest, don’t listen to his denials.’ ‘Now, Amy is currently working on her doctorate in particle physics and is working on anti-gravity skates in her free time.’) until Eric was laughing for the first time since his mother had headed back to Georgia. They insisted that their two extra years on him gave them endless knowledge of the workings of the entirety of Massachusetts and had given him both their numbers, making him promise to text if he needed anything. Later on, Nina had pulled him aside and told him that they had moved here from North Carolina to train and that they knew what it was like to be so far from home. (‘Promise if you need to talk you’ll call, okay?’)

By the second day Eric had also learned that Antonio was gay and Nina was ace. 

(“Hey, Eric,” Antonio had said as they were getting ready to finish up practice. “Wanna go for coffee after this? My treat.” Eric had felt his face turn red and had stammered so much that Antonio quickly backtracked. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have assumed, I just-”

“No!” Eric had blurted. “I mean, I am, I just…. I don’t want another thing to have to lie to my parents about. Sorry.”

Antonio had waved him off. “Nothing to apologize for.” He looked awkward for a moment. “Still want to be friends?”

Eric had smiled. “Of course.”)

“So Eric,” Nina started as they took a break from crunches. “Did I correctly hear you asking Coach Kelly if people needed tickets for the competition?”

“Well,” Eric said in between drinks of water. “It seemed like a better idea than asking Yakov. I’m still not sure he won’t eat me if I try to talk to him.”

“Uh huh,” she said dismissively. “Quit avoiding. Who’s coming?”

“Um, the hockey team? Some of them, anyway.” He couldn’t help but remember Jack’s glare from that morning. He was still trying to work out a way to ask Shitty what he’d done to make the captain hate him, but hadn’t quite worked out how to phrase it.

Antonio’s head poked around the corner. “Did I hear that right? Cute hockey boys are coming?”

“Down, boy.” Nina rolled her eyes. “He’s been on about three dates in the past three years, don’t let him fool you. He’s hopeless,” she informed Eric.

“I can still admire,” Antonio said, pouting as he plopped down next to them. “So, cute hockey boys? Yes?”

Eric sighed. “Yeah. Oh, apparently one of them is a big deal? I haven’t had the time to look him up, but he has a Wikipedia page?”

Antonio whipped out his phone. “Name?”

“Jack… Zimmermann, I think?”

“Jack Zim- he autofills. Damn.” His eyes widened as the page loaded. “ _ Hot _ damn. Those are some  _ very _ nice eyes. Also I think his ass has a Tumblr? Which, ooh, Eric, you get to look at this all the time? Maybe college isn’t that bad of an idea.…” 

Nina rolled her eyes. “No.” She glanced over his shoulder. “He does have pretty eyes, though.”

Eric glared at them. “He hates me.”

Antonio frowned. “Well, fuck him then.” He continued scrolling. “Huh. You… might actually want to read his page sometime, Eric. Jeez, you two could bond over unreasonable expectations placed on young athletes. Or something.”

This time Eric was the one to roll his eyes. “Sure, me and Jack bonding. He’s got a better chance of winning Skate America. Come on, let’s lace up.” 

He shook his head again. Him and Jack. Really, Antonio had to be out of his mind.

“Hey Eric,” Nina said with a sly grin. “I notice you didn’t disagree about Jack’s… assets.” She and Antonio shared a look that made Eric want to run and hide somewhere.

“Whatever y’all are thinking, the answer is no,” he warned.

“We just have your best interests at heart,” Antonio said, putting his hand to his heart and looking at Eric like he’d just told him Starbucks was going out of business. 

“ _ No _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Johnson: Don't let the twins and Shitty be in a room together or that slow burn's gonna go right out the window.  
> So about the timeline change- Skaters must be 15 in July before the season starts in order to compete in Senior level competitions (ie, the Olympics). In canon, Bitty wouldn't have made this cutoff soon enough to compete in Vancouver, but I wanted him to be there, so I had to switch things around.  
> Fun facts about the twins!  
> They were adopted from Guatemala when they were a few months old by their lawyer mom and her then husband, who divorced about a year after. Hubby is not in their lives at all. Mom remarried a Latina doctor a couple years later, who has taught the twins Spanish. Lawyer mother is 'Mom', doctor mother is 'Mamá'. Both of them are very proud of their babies' skating. They are at Bitty's level talent-wise and I'm pretty sure pairs and singles wouldn't actually be practicing together but I don't care let him have friends, okay? Also I don't have a last name for them yet, so if anyone wants to suggest something, I'm happy to hear it!  
> It'll probably be a while before I can update again, since I've got two group projects due and finals soon after that, so sorry!  
> Comments and kudos make me squeal! I'm claire3467 on tumblr, come talk to me!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Bitty's competition! And for Jack to not know how to deal with his feelings!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha..... Look I have a good explanation, I swear. I meant to write over winter break, but tbh I'm still recovering from last semester. Which is pretty bad, since I'm now three weeks into spring semester. (Please kill me.)  
> This is unbeta-ed, so let me know if you see any mistakes!  
> (Oh and fyi, different Yakov from Yuri on ice. I already had the name in my head and didn't feel like changing it. When I eventually get to the point that the show comes out, he will be teased mercilessly.)

Jack had managed to successfully avoid Bittle for the entire week and a half leading up to his competition. He had stayed in his room whenever the figure skater came over to the Haus to bake, Bittle hadn’t shown up to breakfast again, and the two times he had seen him on campus Jack had turned and walked the other way as fast as possible without running. Jack was on a great streak and would have happily continued it through the weekend of Bittle’s competition, but Shitty apparently had other plans. 

One of which was evidently bear hugging him until he gave in and got in the car to drive to Boston Friday afternoon.

“C’mon, brah,” Shitty pleaded. “Don’t you wanna see Bitty kick ass? He’s gonna do a bunch of jumps and spins and we’ll get to see his costume and he’ll be fucking adorable. “

“Shits, let  _ go _ ,” Jack grunted, trying to get a hand in between him and his best friend (which he was seriously questioning right now) to push Shitty off. “I have work to do. I’m not going.”

Shitty glared at him. “ _ Yes _ , you are. The four of us are all going, we  _ told _ Bitty we were going,  _ and _ we already booked the hotel room. Bring your fucking imaginary homework and get your perfect ass in the fucking car because I am not missing his fucking short program.”

Jack finally decided that he might as well accept his fate and hope that Bittle at least wouldn’t be wearing anything too clingy, for the sake of his sanity and public image. 

By the time they arrived at the rink, the seats were already filling up under a big banner welcoming them to the 2012 Boston Open. As Jack watched, the jumbotron on the far wall filled up with a list of names, with a three next to Eric Bittle, right in the middle of group three. Well, at least he had time to prepare himself. 

“Hey! Are you guys Eric’s hockey friends?” Jack turned to see a Lardo-sized Latina girl next to a guy who looked remarkably like her, only much closer to Shitty’s height. They settled down in the seats next to Shitty (who had insisted that Jack sit in between him and Holster so that he couldn’t make an escape midway through). 

“Hang on, I think I can guess,” the man said before anyone could start on introductions. “Shitty, Jack, Holster, Ransom, right?”

Shitty grinned. “Antonio and Nina, right? Bitty said you volunteered for guiding the hopeless hockey players through the world of figure skating? You’re fucking saints.”

Antonio smiled. “Oh my God, you call him Bitty? That’s so adorable, I can’t believe he didn’t tell us. Well, I mean, I can. But still.”

“Leave the poor thing alone,” Nina scolded. “Now, what do y’all know about figure skating?”

They all blinked. 

“Bitty’s really fucking good at it?” Holster offered.

“There’s jumps and spins and points,” Shitty said firmly.

Antonio raised his eyebrows. “Oh boy. At least you’re all cute.”

He and Nina both pulled out their phones as Jack tried to follow along with the sudden rush of information. He gave up somewhere around Salchow and pulled out his own phone, finally giving in to his curiosity about Bittle’s career. 

After a few more taps on links to figure out what the hell a Grand Prix was and a couple minutes scrolling through the details of his career Jack felt a little overwhelmed. As far as he could tell, he’d at least medaled, if not won, everything he’d competed in since Vancouver. And for two years in Juniors before that, even if his Wikipedia said that his senior debut season was a little lacking. Jack couldn’t tell if someone managed to sneak sarcasm into Wikipedia or not. He may not have known anything about figure skating, but he did know that winning an Olympic silver medal at fifteen was pretty fucking impressive. 

He could understand the pressure to be perfect. 

“Hey, are you even- Oh, yeah, that sort of works too.” Jack looked up to see Antonio leaning over to look at Jack’s phone. “I’ve been trying to tell Eric that you two have a lot in common.”

“I’ve been saying the same thing!” Shitty exclaimed. “Except Bitty’s more hardcore. Does he seriously practice six hours a day? ‘Cause holy shit, how is he not dead?”

Nina hummed thoughtfully. “He might have been counting cardio, and I know he’s taking a ballet class at Samwell, but that is a pretty high number. He has… issues he’s trying to work through.” She grinned slyly. “Actually, we’ve been trying to get him to relax and have fun a little. Any chance you guys would like to help with that?”

Shitty let out a wordless noise of joy that made Jack seriously consider trying to make a break for the exit. Thankfully, a voice came on to announce that the first group was taking to the ice to warm up.

The first two groups passed in a blur of… not that many sparkly things, actually, along with Antonio and Nina pointing out the different elements and trying to help the boys learn to recognize the different jumps. (‘Okay, look, if y’all can’t recognize a damn axel there’s nothing I can do for you.’) Finally, the zamboni was cleaning the ice before Bittle’s group and before Jack even had time to fully process that, his group was warming up. 

Bittle wasn’t hard to pick out- he was the only blonde on the ice. He was also, Jack noticed, wearing significantly fewer sequins than he would have expected. Jack could see a few shimmering lines tracing patterns across the sea-foam green shirt he was wearing (which was also thankfully looser than Jack had been expecting) but neither it nor the plain black pants were what Jack would have picked for the bubbly boy. 

“It’s so… boring,” Holster said, peering around Jack and Shitty to stare at the twins in confusion. 

“Yeah,” Ransom agreed. “Does he not get to pick his own outfit or something?”

Antonio just glared at the ice with tightly pursed lips. Jack followed his gaze to where Eric had apparently just stopped himself from running a hand through his carefully gelled-back hair. Combined with the fact that Eric looked more serious than Jack had ever seen him, he actually looked older than his age, for once. Which was not making Jack’s life any easier.

“Don’t let the sparkles and makeup fool you,” Nina finally said quietly. “Figure skating tends to be just as homophobic as any other sport.”

Shitty looked like he was about to comment, but Jack dug his elbow into his side as hard as he could. Antonio studied them, but stayed silent. 

Gasps suddenly sounded from around them, and Jack looked to the ice to see Eric getting back to his feet, glaring furiously at a boy with brown hair.

“Fucking Matthew,” Antonio growled. 

“Did he do that on purpose?” Ransom asked, glaring at the ice.

“He’s damn lucky Eric’s too nice to run into his bigoted ass,” Antonio responded.

Then the skaters were leaving the ice and Matthew was gliding into the center and the announcer was saying his name and music and Jack was right back to trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

_/\\_

Eric was seething. He wished he had just run over Matthew. It would have served him right. Instead, he was left with stinging palms glaring at his stupid Beethoven program and he’d flubbed a jump he had been landing since he was fourteen. 

He’d caught a glimpse of the hockey boys in the stands though, Nina and Antonio there as promised. He was trying not to feel smug (and was absolutely  _ not _ feeling butterflies in his stomach) about the look on Jack’s face, but it was tough. He cleaned up well, if he did say so himself.

He forced himself to clap as Matthew finished (he’d fallen  _ twice _ and he thought his edges had looked  _ horrible _ which was absolutely not due to Eric being biased), keeping his face carefully neutral. As conceited as it sounded, he wasn’t worried about this competition at all. He was the reigning World Champion (and Lord, but that still made his heart race to think about); he was mostly doing this because Yakov and Kelly had wanted to show him off. Speaking of…

“Alright, kid,” Kelly said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Eric turned to look at his coach, lean, quiet, and open where Yakov was broad, loud, and gruff. The two men worked well together, for all their differences. 

“I don’t need to tell you how to skate. You know what to do, okay?” Eric nodded dutifully. 

“You know there’s still another person before me, right?”

Kelly gave him a look. “You’re lucky Yakov’s over there chewing out Matt, smartass.” His expression softened. “How long has that been happening, by the way?”

Eric firmly looked back to where the next skater was taking the ice. “Nothing’s happening.”

He heard Kelly sigh behind him. “You’re not in Georgia anymore, Eric. If you get tired of putting up with his shit, just let us know, okay?”

“Sure,” Eric muttered.  _ Because that’s an option. _

Kelly lingered for a moment, probably hoping Eric would lose his damn mind and tell him why Matthew had singled him out. 

Then the second skater was finishing and there was more clapping and then Eric was taking to the ice and letting the cheers wash over him as his focus narrowed to his body, the music, and the ice.

_/\\_

“Ladies and gentlemen, the 2012 men’s singles World Champion, Eric Bittle!”

Bittle waved, smile bright and sunny as he made his way to the center. He posed in a way that had Jack feeling an overwhelming sense of deja vu, and a hush fell over the crowd.

The violin came in, and Jack watched in surprise as Bitty swept into the routine from that first day, face serene and blissful. And, crisse, but it was even more breathtaking now. He could barely think, his vision narrowed to the tiny blonde that was suddenly flying up into what Nina informed them was a quad-triple toe combination. Jack was extremely annoyed to discover that the looser pants didn’t make it any easier to think when Bitty started his donut spin. People around them were shouting, and Nina and Antonio were struggling to talk over them. 

Jack didn’t know how they were managing it- he could barely breathe.

Flying sit spin, spin combination, triple axel, quad Salchow, and then Bitty was slamming his skate down and the crowd was screaming and Jack found himself clapping along with everyone else, trying to get his brain back online. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Shitty said breathlessly as the stands finally calmed down. On the ice below them, Bittle looked ready to collapse but was still smiling broadly. As Jack watched, the announcer called his name again and he bowed and skated off the ice. A few minutes later and his score was announced, along with the fact that he was now in first place. 

“Damn,” Ransom said. “That’s even cooler with the music.” The rest of them murmured in agreement. 

The last two skaters finished their programs, neither coming even close to Bittle’s score. (“I mean,” Nina explained, “Eric’s ranked first in the world, and this isn't exactly a major event. Kinda to be expected.)

Jack wasn’t entirely sure what all of that meant (or how scoring worked, exactly, even after reading the entire Wikipedia page), but he figured the takeaway was that Bittle was, as Shitty had put it, really fucking good. By the time they caught up with Bittle after the competition ended, Jack was fairly sure he had managed to school his face into complete disinterest. Not that Bittle noticed, since he was, as usual, absorbed in his phone as they walked up. He finished typing something, then slid it into his pocket as he glanced up at them. 

“Sorry, y’all,” he said. “My cousins in Busan had wished me luck, and I didn’t get a chance to respond before I skated.”

Nina frowned. “Is that in South Korea? I feel like I’ve heard of it before.”

Bittle smiled. “Yeah, my Moomaw- sorry, my grandma grew up over there. She and Poppop met when he was over there serving. Been married fifty years now. She and my cousins help me practice my Korean, since I didn’t grow up speaking it.” He paused and looked around, frowning. “Hey, where all are Kelly and Yakov?”

“I… think it's their anniversary?” Antonio said, looking to Nina for confirmation. “Yeah, I think five years?”

Bittle opened and closed his mouth several times. “I-I… didn't… they don’t wear rings?”

Nina shrugged. “Personal choice. I know Kelly mentioned once that having crap on his fingers drives him nuts. Wait,” she said, a smile slowly growing on her face. “Does that mean you haven't met Anna yet? Oh my god, we’ll have to fix that. They have the cutest little girl ever, I swear.” 

Bittle’s face lit up, and Jack had to look away. “They have a daughter?! Oh my goodness, I love kids so much! How old is she? Do they ever need a babysitter? Oh, does she skate? I swear on my Moomaw’s pecan pie, there are few things in this world cuter than babies on skates. Have I told y’all about how Katya let me work off some of my coaching fees by helping her teach the little little kids? Oh, gracious-”

Bittle continued chattering as they made their way to dinner, where Ransom and Holster chirped the figure skaters for their salads as the rest of them got hamburgers that, as Bittle pointed out, were about the size of his head and they were ‘out of their ever loving minds’ if they thought he would be able to eat one of those without exploding. 

“Besides,” Nina added. “These have chicken on them. There’s protein. We’re athletes, not models.”

“Unfortunately,” Antonio sighed, “that doesn’t mean we get to have dessert. Which is truly tragic, because that lava cake looks uh-may-zing.”

Bittle studied it as the server passed their table. He hummed thoughtfully. “I could pull one of those off. Could probably do it with a lot fewer calories, too.”

Antonio whipped around to grab Bittle’s shoulders. “Eric, I am  _ begging _ you. My birthday-” Nina cleared her throat. “Well,  _ our _ brithday, but don’t try to pretend you don't want that- is in two weeks, and you  _ have  _ to make that. I will literally  _ cry _ .”

Bittle laughed. He turned to Shitty. “Y'all are okay with me using your kitchen to work out the recipe, right?”

“Do we get to test them out?”

Bittle shrugged. “Somebody has to.”

“Then abso-fucking-lutely. Make as many chocolate pieces of heaven as your heart desires, Bitty.” 

He grinned. “Will do.”

_/\\_

To be fair, this was far from the most awkward meal Eric had ever sat through. He could only take so many relatives asking when he was going to get a girlfriend and stage whispering to his parents about how he was going to turn out if he kept up with figure skating before he would have happily eaten glass to be able to leave the table. No, this meal would actually be wonderful- if Jack had spoken more than two words in the hour and a half since they had left the rink. Or if he stopped trying to glare a hole through Eric’s head every time he so much as glanced at him. Either of those things would have been nice.

The glare moved to Shitty for a moment. “We have a meal plan, Shits.” Well, that wasn’t exactly what Eric had in mind when he wanted Jack to talk. 

Shitty rolled his eyes, leaning over to Eric and lowering his voice only slightly. “Don’t listen to him. He always gets super-bitchy during preseason. Don’t take it personally, bro.”

Somehow Eric doubted that that was the entire reason Jack wanted to glare him out of existence, but he smiled and nodded. Jack glared harder. 

Eric decided that Jack really wasn’t nearly as cute as he’d been led to believe. He also decided that he would firmly tell himself this every day until he started to believe it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor babies. Poor, poor idiot children. And yes, I am surrounding Bitty with as many non-straight people as possible because Lord knows this poor boy needs people he can trust. (Eventually. He'll get there.) As clarification, the people Bitty is close to in the figure skating community highly suspect his sexuality, but as is shown in the chapter, he tries to act as straight as possible when there's cameras on him. (Both for the judges and his parents.) So no, Kelly and Yakov don't know for sure that he's gay (and no, Antonio and/or Nina did not out him, although they did tell them what was going on with Matthew), but they aren't going to be particularly surprised when he tells them.   
> Korean!Bitty comes from this post: http://zimmerbittle.tumblr.com/post/147481507526/koreanbitty-headcanons-4-ur-soul from zimmerbittle on tumblr! I saw it and went yes good this is happening. (For your consideration: nervous baby Bitty at Vancouver shyly asking Kim Yuna for her autograph to give to his cousins in stuttering Korean.)  
> Btw, you may be interested to know that I am currently posting this from my school's library on a Saturday, because the heat in our dorm is not working and it was 56 degrees INSIDE when I left. So yeah. I forgot my notes and don't wanna walk back to get them, so I'm working on this. I was originally gonna post the whole competition weekend in one chapter, but I had this already written and figured you guys had been waiting long enough. (Still very sorry about that.) And I'll apologize in advance because who knows when the next chapter will be done.   
> Thanks for reading!  
> Comments and kudos make me squeal and blush!  
> I'm claire3467 on tumblr, come yell at me to write and/or cry about how awful engineering majors are.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Bitty's free skate, with a heaping dose of mental illness!  
> (Jack has a bit of a meltdown in this chapter, if that is an issue for anyone.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the short version of why this is so late is that the last bit of my semester was hell. And two days after it ended, I had foot surgery, which I have been recovering from since. (If you want to know more, feel free to message me on tumblr!)  
> Because of that, I haven't felt up to writing much, although I want to get back on this!

By the next  afternoon Eric was gearing up for his free skate. (Which he was absolutely taking seriously, thank you very much, Kelly.) He’d already buttoned up his deep red shirt and slipped on the same pants from yesterday, all while mentally kicking himself for not having the guts to wear something that didn’t make him want to cry from boredom when he looked at it. He’d stolen some of Antonio’s hair gel (“Oh my goodness, this smells wonderful!” “I know, right? I’ll send you the link.”) and was now in the process of carefully walking the fine line of applying enough makeup so that he didn’t have to worry about dark circles or looking horrifically washed out, but not so much that he may as well have had a glittery rainbow trailing behind him when he took to the ice. Concealer and tinted moisturizer that matched his skin perfectly? Acceptable. Tinted lip balm that was barely a shade redder than his lips? Fine. Eyeliner and mascara? 

“Aren’t you not supposed to share those?” He asked, eyeing the tubes in Nina’s hand suspiciously. 

“Yeah, that’s why we bought new ones for you,” Antonio said distractedly, not even turning from where he was talking to Yakov. 

“Now hold still,” Nina said cheerfully, leaning in. 

Eric backed up. “Um, no. Thanks for thinking of me, y’all, but no.”

She frowned. “Just the mascara?” She held up the tube. “Your eyelashes are really pale. As in like, I’m not entirely sure you  _ have _ eyelashes right now.” He continued frowning, and she sighed. “Look, if you don’t like it, I’ll help you take it off  _ and _ I’ll redo anything on the rest of your face that got messed up. Deal?”

He almost bit his lip before remembering the lip balm. “Deal.”

She beamed. “Okay, now seriously, hold still. I don’t want to smear this all over or like, stab you in the eye or something.

“I’d very much appreciate that,” he said, holding perfectly still as she tilted his head.

“I don’t think I’ve done this on someone with monolids before,” she murmured. “Aaannndddd.... Done. What do you think?”

Eric studied himself in the mirror. His eyes did look bigger, but it wouldn’t have been noticeable to anyone who didn’t know him well. He hoped. “I… think it looks good. Thanks, Nina.”

“Agreed,” Kelly said from behind. Eric forced himself not to jump. “Keep it.”

“I still say you should go all out with the makeup,” Antonio piped up, walking over with Yakov. “I mean, come on, you’re skating to George Michael.  _ Own it _ .”

“Leave Eric, Antonio,” Yakov said. “Eric, time to watch your tape, da?”

He nodded gratefully, following his coach over to the laptop. As his program played, he tried to focus on the pointers Yakov was giving him while fighting off the nausea welling up in his stomach. He’d gotten so much better at fighting through it this past year, why was it welling up now. He forced himself to regulate his breaths, tuning back in to find Yakov looking at him, expression unreadable. 

“You okay, kid?” Kelly asked, walking around to face Eric and looking at him with concern. 

“I, um, bathroom,” he managed to choke out right before he bolted in the direction of the bathroom. Thank God he hadn’t put his skates on yet.

He barely made it into a stall before the meager bit of lunch he had managed to swallow made its way back up. He knelt there for several long breaths, fighting not to retch again from the smell. He had just settled onto the floor and tilted his head against the wall to try and keep the tears from ruining his makeup (God, he was supposed to be done with this, what was wrong with him?) when the door opened. 

“Eric?” Kelly’s voice echoed quietly through the otherwise empty bathroom. “You in here, kid?”

Eric hurriedly reached over and flushed, swiping at his eyes with his other hand as Kelly came into view. He was about to stand up when, to his surprise, Kelly glanced at the floor for a split second before settling down to the side of the stall. 

Eric stared at him in shock. “Your suit,” he managed to say.

Kelly waved his hand. “It’ll be fine. Let’s talk about you instead.” He gestured at the bathroom. “Does this happen a lot? You throwing up before competitions?”

Eric wasn’t sure what his face looked like, but it couldn’t have been good, because Kelly’s expression softened. “It’s not going to affect our decision to coach you. We just need to know  _ how _ we need to be coaching you. If this is something we need to be helping you through.” 

Eric brought his knees to his chest and pressed his face against them. He wasn’t supposed to  _ need _ help. He was supposed to be over this, he won, why was this still happening? “It hasn’t for a little while. About a year since the last time.” 

“And before that?” Kelly’s voice was gentle.

“Before every competition. For about four years.” He glanced up just in time to see Kelly’s expression twist from something that looked like mild horror before he nodded decisively. 

“Okay then.” He stood up, offering a hand to help Eric up. “We really do need to be getting back, but later, when we have some time, I want to talk about you maybe going to see a therapist, okay? A little bit of nerves is normal, good even, but this is quite a bit past that.” He clapped Eric on the shoulder as Eric tried to process what he was saying. “Yasha and I want you to be able to come to us with stuff like this, alright kid? You’re only eighteen, nobody expects you to be dealing with this on your own. That’s what we’re here for.”

Eric finally managed to remember how to speak as they started walking back to the waiting area. “I thought you were here to tell me my quad Salchow was sloppy.”

Kelly laughed. “That too. Skating problems, anxiety problems, ED problems, boy problems, girl problems….” He trailed off, looking thoughtful. “Well, maybe I’ll direct you to Yasha or Nina if that last one pops up. They’ve got more experience with it than me.”

Eric cleared his throat. “It- it won’t. Ever. At all. Wait, Nina likes girls?”

Kelly hummed. “Yeah. And my husband is a grumpy, bi, Russian ex-pat.” He grinned at Eric. “So between them, us, Amy, Lizzie, and Antonio, we’re more diverse than 99% of mainstream media. Quite an accomplishment, eh?” He stopped walking and turned to Eric with his arms open. Eric fell into them gratefully. It’d been a long damn time since he’d had a hug. “Thanks for telling me,” Kelly whispered. “I know it’s scary, and I know how hard it is. And I also know that you’re a brave kid who’ll get through this.” He pulled back and smiled broadly. “Now, let’s go kick ass, yeah?”

Eric smiled, feeling better than he had in weeks. “Yeah.”

_/\\_

Jack was still reeling when they went to meet up with Bittle after the medal ceremony. He had won, of course. As far as Jack was concerned, he deserved all the awards in the world. He was going to be thinking of Bittle in red silk dancing to saxophones for months. The noise and lights and crowd and pathetic lack of control over his emotions were finally getting to him, though, and he found himself fumbling for his fidget cube in the pocket of his- he wasn’t wearing a jacket. Had left it in the car and there were  _ so many _ people in the lobby-

Shitty’s arm was around his waist, squeezing firmly as he led Jack out of the building, calling something to Ransom and Holster and Antonio and Nina, probably making excuses for why Jack couldn’t handle something everyone else could without thinking-

“Breathe, Jack,” Shitty said as he led them into the parking garage. “We’re almost at the car, you’ve got your blanket and headphones, you’ll be fine. No one’s judging you. If they do, Holster’ll rip their head off.”

Jack tried, he really did, he didn’t want to fuck this up, as much as he didn’t want to he  _ liked _ Bittle and he couldn’t see this side of him because he was wonderful and would realize that he deserved so much better but Jack couldn’t always stop this and- 

Shitty was opening the car door and firmly shoving him in. He felt the familiar heaviness of his weighted blanket settle around his shoulder as Shitty handed him his headphones. He slipped them over his head with shaking hands and tried to just  _ breathe _ . 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he felt calmed down again and felt Shitty nudge him gently. He glanced over at the phone that was being held out towards him. ‘ _ Better?’ _ He nodded, reaching up and taking his headphones off. He didn’t feel up to talking yet, so he pulled up the texting app on his phone instead. ‘ _ Thanks. _ ’

Shitty smiled. ‘ _ Always, bro. _ ’

By the time the other guys got to the car, Jack had folded his blanket back into a square small enough to tuck under his seat and hidden his headphones out of sight with it. Ransom and Holster were some of the few people who bothered to acknowledge his Asperger’s, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still a little embarrassing.

No matter how many times people told him not to, he still felt humiliated any time he slipped in public. 

Eric glanced at him in concern as he settled into the back seat next to him. “Antonio and Nina remembered they had promised to Skype their moms tonight, so they’re headed back to their apartment. We’re gonna grab something on the way back to Samwell.” 

Jack frowned at him, still unsure how much Bittle had been told. It was publicly available (though everyone seemed to have decided that he was too high functioning to be ‘really autistic’), but that didn’t mean he went around telling people all the time. 

Surprisingly, Bittle didn’t seem to have anything to say for once. When Jack glanced over, he was absorbed with typing a bunch of boxes and lines on his phone. His brow was furrowed slightly as he paused and glanced up at Jack, smiling sheepishly. “My cousins are helping me learn Korean,” he said, his voice quiet. “Well, they’re trying to anyway, bless their hearts. I can never manage to focus long enough to actually do lessons for it, so they’ve started refusing to text in English, and ignoring me when I do.” He shrugged. “It’s working, I’ll give ‘em that.”

Jack hesitated, then opened up the notes app on his phone.  _ ‘I hate English most of the time.’ _

He was rewarded with a smile. “Can’t say I blame you. It’s a bit of a mess sometimes, ain’t it?”

Jack decided he liked Bittle’s smile.  _ ‘Interviews are the worst.’ _

“Lord, I know how you feel. There’ll be a translator sometimes for me if I’m in another country, but I always hate keeping them waiting, you know?”

Jack felt himself making a face.  _ ‘It’s the worst when multiple people are talking. If I’m not actively listening to someone I don’t hear them. I hate having to ask again.’ _

Bittle humphed. “One of my campers is like that. Some people need to learn to do better.” Jack was about to protest when Bittle continued. “We all learned within a week to just get his attention before asking whatever we need to. It ain’t that hard.” He smiled gently. “Some people just need to learn some manners, that’s all.” 

Jack grinned, settling into his seat as Bittle started quietly talking about his campers. Maybe… maybe Bittle wasn’t so bad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot draw out dislike between these boys. I can't. So basically, Jack was diagnosed in rehab when someone realized that he was showing symptoms of Asperger's. (He does still have anxiety, because the two are not mutually exclusive.) Both Bob and Alicia have mentioned it multiple times (mostly in response to people comparing their baby to inanimate objects) but the general response of the media has been "... Yeah you don't act *that* weird/Well if you were *really* autistic, wouldn't you have been diagnosed sooner?". Because people are assholes. The boys and Lardo are all great about it. Holster mentioned it to Bitty, who, having dealt with a few campers on the spectrum, basically reacts with "Okay, so what can I do to make it easier for him?" because Bitty don't have time for your ableist bullshit.  
> Born and raised in 'we don't talk about mental illness down here, much less acknowledge that men and boys might have emotions' Bitty legitimately doesn't realize that THROWING UP AND HAVING A MINOR PANIC ATTACK BEFORE EVERY COMPETITION ISN'T NORMAL FFS CHILD. Kelly, however, does and promptly informed his husband that they would be keeping this one. Bitty will not acknowledge that there is anything wrong with how he handles his emotions for, like, canon length of time, probably.  
> So.... hopefully I'll have another chapter up before I go back to school (40~ days, I should be able to manage it, even with my summer course). Thanks for reading, y'all are the best!  
> Also, fun fact: there was a kid on my swim team when I was younger (he was probably 10-12) who seriously did throw up before every meet. Nothing was ever done about this, as 'well he swims fine after it' so why be concerned, right? Yes I did grow up in the American South, why do you ask?  
> Also also: Because my head is full of things... would anyone read a Zimbits mermaid/soulmates AU?

**Author's Note:**

> So Bitty's music is basically a shortened/edited version of that song, because short programs are only 2:50 long. But you get the idea. Also the spin Bitty does that makes Jack forget how to breathe is called a doughnut spin!  
> Poor Jack is not straight enough to handle this.  
> Seriously though, figure skaters have crazy thigh muscles.  
> Fun fact! Massachusetts has like, a million skating clubs. North Star is a real one, and from my five seconds googling, it looks like one that would be close to where Ngozi has placed Samwell. (Look, I'm not going to search each one to find one that could train Olympians, okay. Maybe I'll go back and change it later. Who knows. I like the name though so probably not.)  
> Also Bitty's guards are UGA colors. (His dad approves of them.) Also he's wearing leggings and a shirt that is probably too tight even though that isn't what he would be wearing if this was real life. But I wanted Jack to have to deal with muscular Bitty in tight clothes so deal with it.  
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos make my day!  
> I'm claire3467 on tumblr! Feel free to say hi!


End file.
